Since my grade school days
The insecure have had to be
Violent—at least potentially.
But to make the potential
Credible those insecure have
Had to actually wreak among
Their peers physical pain
If not physical damage.
It’s no less true on schoolyards
Today, unless somewhere a
Progressive elementary exists
Where they’ve drugged the
Youngsters’ subconsciouses
Into an Edenic somnambulance,
Where all activities are cooperative
Not competitive, where all win
Lest any hint of the glories of
Dominance threaten the calm.
To me, in the age of Dump, this
Is all vaguely masked Lord of the
Flies theory performing on the
World stage with alarming
Accuracy. The orange orangutan
Is as ready to rush to the fight
As Obama the Nobel Peace
Prize awardee proved early in
His first term. No sooner than
The laurels were placed did the
Young president disappoint his
Champions by reading a speech
In defense of military actions.
Not at all what they’d hoped
When they thought to honor the
African-American who spoke
Courageously of peace to his
Muslim and Arab counterparts
At Cairo University in 2009. It was
A feint, a deceit commonplace
Among warring rivals, for he was
At the same time authorizing
Drone strikes in numerous
Countries with which the US
Had not declared war. He tried
To walk away from the venture
In Iraq on a technicality only
To return in a year or so later—
This time with no “boots
On the ground,” only bombs
Temporarily overhead. Ah, the
Poetry of conflict: friendly fire,
Collateral damage, fog of war,
Surge. He has left to a man far
Less measured his promise to
Spend a trillion dollars over
The next ten years to upgrade
Our already planet-evaporating
Arsenal, to a man who confesses
His comprehensive ignorance by
Asking, “We have nukes. Why don’t
We use them?” W relaxes in his
La-Z-Boy, a little shaken by the
Rash talk of an arms race and the
Risk of obliterating all humanity,
But comforted nonetheless that
He is no longer the dumbest
American president.
c. J.S.Manista, 2017
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